Spotlight on Love

by Maxene Novak

  I let out a deep breath and smiled. “Good. So…friends?”

  He waited a beat, his eyebrows pinching together in some expression I couldn’t read. Not angry. Maybe…confused. “Sure. We’re all pros here.”

  Right.

  It was on the tip of my tongue to point out that pros probably would have tried harder not to let last night happen.

  But then I noticed how I could see the slightest beat of his pulse at the base of his throat just above the ribbed edge of his dark gray t-shirt. And instantly my fingertips ached to reach out and touch that pulse point, maybe even press my lips or the tip of my tongue to his skin there to see how he tasted.

  I caught myself in the act of taking a step closer to him. Mortified at my lack of self-control, I stopped myself, clasping my elbows to keep my hands to myself.

  “Hey, perfect timing!” Jessie called out to us as he exited the stage and joined us in the hall. “I was hoping to catch up with you two. Want to go out for a quick bite before the show?”

  I wasn’t acting when I gave him a smile of regret. “Wish I could, but I can’t. It takes forever for me to get ready for the shows.”

  Jessie grinned. “Even with a hairdresser and makeup person to do it all for you?”

  I snorted. “Yeah, even then. It takes almost an hour just to do all this hair, and then another half an hour for the makeup.”

  “Then what do you do for food while they’re doing all that? I mean, other than more catered stuff.” Jessie frowned in confusion.

  I shrugged. “Eat something my chef made up ahead of time for me.” My bus’s fridge was stuffed full of premade meals, all nutritionally balanced and custom designed to reduce inflammation. Unfortunately, all the best food in the world couldn’t stop my cheeks from getting rounder by the day thanks to the stupid steroids I was on for the lupus. And my face had already leaned towards a fuller oval shape even before the medication. Now I was truly afraid I was starting to look like a chipmunk with its cheeks stuffed full of acorns.

  Jessie looked lost for a few seconds. Then his face lit up. “Okay. Mind if I eat with you while you get ready then? At least till the show?”

  “Oh. Um, sure. Why not?” I’d given a couple of interviews before during hair and makeup time. Hanging out with Jessie then couldn’t be much different, and might even help make the time pass quicker and the pain less annoying.

  “You headed back to your bus now?” Jessie asked.

  I nodded.

  He turned towards Shane. “You coming with us?”

  Shane hesitated then shook his head. “The guys and I have stuff to do.”

  A flash of disappointment crossed Jessie’s face then was gone. He shrugged and turned to me with a smile.

  “Um, see you later,” I murmured to Shane, feeling incredibly awkward now as Jessie and I turned together and headed down the hall towards the arena’s back exit, my ever-present bodyguard for the day trailing a few yards behind us at a discreet distance.

  “How are you feeling today?” Jessie asked quietly, bumping his shoulder against mine and making me smile.

  “Surviving. You?”

  “Awesome as ever.” There was a few seconds of comfortable silence between us then he said, “Hey, want me to shorten the walk?”

  “By?” I asked cautiously, wondering if he’d gotten a hold of a Segway or one of the bicycles that the stage crew kept available for getting around behind the scenes inside the arenas faster.

  He stopped walking, turned his back to me, and made a funny half squat, his arms out away from his sides as he waved his fingers in the general direction of his butt. “Piggy back ride.”

  “What?” I said on a laugh. “No. I can’t.”

  “Why? Because we’re supposed to be grownups or some bullshit? Come on. You know those heels are already killing your toes, and you still have a show to do. It’s a long walk to the busses. I guarantee this’ll make it go in half the time.”

  I laughed again. “I don’t know. I haven’t done this since I was…” Actually, I’d never done this, not that I could remember. “How would I even get up…?”

  “You don’t know how to ride piggy back?” Jessie shot me a shocked look and shook his head. “Oh, now this definitely has to happen. Your life is tragic. We have to fix this. Get on quick. Just stand close behind me with your hands on my shoulders.”

  Oh God. I was nuts for even considering this. A thrill bubbled up through me, and I found myself standing close behind him and cautiously resting my hands on his broad shoulders.

  His warm, incredibly strong feeling shoulders.

  “Okay, now on three you jump up and wrap your legs around me, and I’ll catch your legs while you hang onto my shoulders. Ready?” He counted, I jumped, he caught my legs, and he did a funny jumping motion to shift me up higher on his back till I could comfortably hold on.

  He turned his head to look at me, and we were close enough to kiss. He grinned. “Ready? Hold on tight.”

  Then he took off at a jog, and a helpless squeal erupted out of me followed by laughter.

  I glanced back behind us to make sure my bodyguard was keeping up, and caught Shane standing there still in the hall, a rapidly shrinking figure as he watched us, his hands stuffed deep into his jeans pockets, an expression that I would have almost called longing filling his face till I turned and faced forward again.

  By the time we reached my bus, both Jessie and I were breathless, him from the jog, me from all the laughing. He set me down on my feet, and I tried to catch my breath while the bodyguard unlocked the bus for us.

  “You are crazy!” I gasped, laughing as we entered the bus and the bodyguard took up his post outside. Checking the time on my watch, I groaned. “Makeup and hair will be here any minute. Want to see if you can find anything you like in the fridge while I get dressed?”

  “Sure.”

  I hurried into the bedroom area, sliding the door closed and quickly shucking out of my clothes.

  I reemerged a few minutes later in skin-colored tights and the strapless bodysuit that served as both bra, underwear, and modesty for the three costume changes backstage during my show in front of backup dancers, stage crew, and a whole bunch of other people. I covered it all with a satin robe in my favorite shade of blush pink, then headed out into the kitchenette area.

  Jessie stood there with a bottle of water and a Tupperware container of food. But he was staring at me.

  “What?” I asked, looking in the fridge and grabbing a chicken Caesar salad and a bottle of water. When I straightened up, he was still staring at me.

  “Nothing. I guess I never realized just how short you are. No wonder you always wear heels.”

  I groaned and grinned. “Jerk. I am not that short!”

  “Oh, yeah you are. Look at you. You’ve got to be, what, four feet tops?”

  I gasped in indignation. “Five feet, thank you very much!”

  He stepped closer, looking at the top of my head. “You don’t even reach my shoulder without those heels, do you?”

  I looked up at him, laughing. Then the laughter faded as we both seemed to realize at the same time how close we were. And that we were alone.

  I licked my suddenly dry lips and swallowed hard. Instantly, flashes of memory of last night burst through my mind, and all I could think was…

  More. Last night wasn’t nearly enough.

  One second we were staring at each other and it was hard to breathe, impossible to think about anything but needing to feel those lips on me again. The next, we were wrapped up around each other, pressed against each other hard, his arms around me, his hands sliding down my back, over my butt, then still lower.

  He picked me up without even having to stop our kiss and set me on the nearest countertop. Immediately my legs wrapped around him as if they had a mind of their own, the heels of my bare feet digging into his butt to push him harder against me.

  He tore his mouth free only to press a trail of frantic kisses down the side of my n
eck and lower. “I can’t stop thinking about last night—”

  “Me neither,” I gasped as he nudged my robe open, his guitar string calloused fingertips tracing the edge of my bodysuit where it met the curves of my cleavage.

  I dug my fingers into his hair, tugging his head back up so I could kiss him again. His tongue plunged in and out of my mouth to the rhythm of his hips rocking against me, driving me out of my mind with need.

  We didn’t even need the bed or couch. We could do it right here on the kitchen counters for all I cared. I just needed him inside me again.

  Suddenly the bus control tablet beeped. “Ma’am? Hair and makeup are here for you.”

  “Fuuuuck,” Jessie hissed out, pressing the heels of his hands on the edge of the counter and ducking his head.

  Slowly the fog faded from my brain. I slid down off the counter onto surprisingly shaky legs, pressing hot hands to my forehead. Time to start getting ready for the show. Right. Back to work.

  I looked around, discovered we’d dropped our food containers and water bottles, gathered everything up and winced as my knees cracked. Yep, nothing like cracking knees to make a girl super sexy.

  “Um, here’s your—” I held out his food and water.

  “Right.” He took them from me, his fingertips touching mine, and we stared at each other for a few seconds.

  No. No more kissing. Time to work. Shit!

  Taking a deep breath to try and steady myself, I grabbed the tablet and told the guard to let the ladies in. They entered a few seconds later with rolling cases and arms full of freshly cleaned costumes, which they would help me into the first of once my hair and makeup were done. They gave Jessie quick, curious glances, and he managed polite nods for them while chugging down his water, probably to cool himself off.

  I could completely relate, because I was pretty sure I was sweating from head to toe now too. Something about the chemistry between us every time we touched just set my internal thermostat off. He literally made me hot in a way I’d never experienced before with anyone else.

  Except Shane. He had the same effect on me.

  It was probably a very good thing after all that Shane hadn’t come over to hang out with us too. No telling what state the ladies would have found us in then.

  Jessie sat on the edge of the made-up bed, checking with me that it was okay before he started eating. The whole time, those bright blue eyes seemed to stay locked onto me. It turned out to be enough all on its own to keep me overheated. Or maybe it was just the memory of that insanely hot kiss we’d just shared.

  The hair stylist and later the makeup artist both had to gently tell me several times to reposition my head or face so they could do their work, which was more than a little embarrassing. Jessie was like some kind of crazy eye magnet. I kept catching myself already staring at him, either directly or in the reflection in the mirror.

  Suddenly my phone went off. I waited until the makeup artist nodded it was safe for me to move, then I grabbed it and answered the stage manager’s call.

  “Hey, um, Jessie’s not hanging out with you, is he?” she asked.

  “Yes. Why?”

  “Because he’s late to start his show.” To her credit, the manager didn’t shriek, but I could tell from her tone that she wanted to.

  “Shit!” Jessie jumped up, started to run out the door, then stopped and leaned back. “See you in a few?”

  Laughing, I waved him off. “Go, go!”

  He flashed me a wild-eyed grin, as if he knew we were acting a little crazy too, then ran off.

  I caught the hair stylist and makeup artist share a glance before returning to their work.

  Uh oh.

  “We’re just friends,” I murmured, hoping my smile looked casual and relaxed, though it felt like it was rapidly tightening up. “He’s been lonely since the other performers are in a band together and we’re the only two solo acts.”

  The makeup artist made a noncommittal, polite hum and kept applying powder to my cheekbones.

  I sighed through my nose. I knew Jessie and I were being borderline indiscreet. And yet a wild, rebellious urge welled up within me. Why couldn’t we hang out and be…friends? Why was it such a big deal even if I was screwing his brains out every single night? What if I slept with every performer on this tour? My life revolved around these tours and recording and doing appearances and interviews on TV and radio. Why was it so wrong for me to date a fellow performer, if that was what I wanted to do? I was an adult. And just because a lot of my professional life had to be lived in the public eye didn’t mean that public owned my private life too.

  And Dani was right. After the torturous year I was having with the lupus crap, indulging in a little fun—the only fun that had managed to make me feel better so far—shouldn’t be a crime.

  “Ma’am?” the makeup artist muttered, making me realize she was done and waiting on me to get up from the vanity. Time to get dressed.

  Too bad Shane didn’t seem to feel the same about us.

  CHAPTER 10

  Sabrina

  This time, performing the transitional duet with Jessie felt like it had this whole new layer of sexy subtext added to it. Or maybe it was just because of the zing that rocketed through me every time our eyes met on stage. And holy hell, but the way he sang! I could tell from the screaming girls at the front of the audience that I wasn’t the only one he was making wet her panties from that sexy voice and the way he used it.

  Jessie Quinn was going to be big. I’d known it the instant I’d first heard him singing on that YouTube video. He had the pipes, the look, even the song writing talent. He was the whole package. And everyone in this arena knew it, right along with all the other venues we’d hit so far. And I’d gotten to be here at the beginning of it.

  I knew I wasn’t making him anything. He was the one bringing the performance that repeatedly rocked the arenas. But I still felt a strange kind of pride in seeing the fans become dazzled by him.

  And they weren’t the only one.

  All too soon, he left the stage, turning his back to the audience and mouthing later? which I nodded in answer to.

  Then it was time for me to focus on doing my best to dazzle the crowd.

  As always, I left it all on the stage, wearing myself out too much. But this was my life, my career, my purpose. And my love. All the other crazy business and paparazzi aspects of the music industry aside, I freaking loved my job, if you even wanted to call it that. I lived for this time right here, on stage, singing not at the fans but with them. This was where I felt like I belonged, and always had belonged. Never once had I ever felt afraid when up here. Interviews for radio and T.V., that was nerve wracking because it was unscripted and such a one-way conversation, talking at the audience instead of with them.

  But on stage, I knew what to do, where to move, what to sing and how. I knew where the props were going to be moved to next, how the lights would move from moment to moment and where I needed to be within them.

  When I was on stage, I was home and having fun with the people I loved the most…my fans. And they gave that love right back a thousand times over, making me feel by the end of every show like I was wrapped in so much good shared feeling that it should practically be visible, like a blanket around me.

  And then I slipped.

  It happened towards the end of my set when I was headed for the stairs to do my last costume change of the show. One minute everything was cruising along like every other night before tonight. The next, my right foot was sliding out from under me and I was going down, and there was absolutely nothing I could do about it.

  I landed on my ass in a totally ungraceful heap, the song still going, the backup dancers freezing for a second then simply adjusting to dance around me.

  And I panicked.

  I’d never fallen during a performance before, had no clue what to do.

  One of the backup dancers on the back row saved me. He suddenly appeared before me, holding out a hand so confid
ently it was as if the whole thing were choreographed ahead of time.

  Shaking, I grabbed his hand, and he helped pull me up then immediately swung me up into his arms. “Keep singing,” he muttered.

  Shit. Right! I resumed singing while he danced around with me in his arms and I tried to go along with it with a big smile.

  He twirled once, twice, then carried me down the steps towards the tiny area kept clear for me to do my costume changes at, where a team waited to strip me down to my bodysuit and tights.

  And this time, my heels too, although I usually kept the same shoes on through the whole show. Not this time, though. I’d twisted my ankle, and it didn’t want me to put my full weight on it.

  “My ankle,” I called out to the team, pointing at it frantically while they were trying to just focus on getting me changed. “No, seriously! No heels! What else have we got? I’ll take anything. Sneakers even!”

  No time. We had no time for a conversation or debate.

  The already frantic costume change turned into barely controlled chaos, someone getting on a walkie talkie to alert the stage manager so she could tell the band to extend the instrumental section and give us a minute more of time to figure this out. At the same time, the wardrobe manager disappeared then reappeared with a pair of ballet flats that nearly made me weep with relief when I put them on. She tried to shout out apologies that they didn’t really match with my outfit, but I waved her off then held onto someone’s shoulders so I wouldn’t fall over as they got me into a big dress made of black taffeta. Hopefully the long skirt on it would hide my feet. If not, well, screw it.

  Tears sprang into my eyes, threatening my eye makeup, as I half crawled up the stairs, took a deep breath, then had to resume singing. Breath control suddenly became a very real issue as I fought both the near blinding pain in my ankle and the hip I’d landed on while trying to sound halfway decent and give all these people their money’s worth. Just two more songs, I silently chanted. Just two more songs. Come on, Sab. You can get through this.